An Open Letter & Open Report / Marriage & The Historic March Across Dixie
From: “HK Edgerton” [email@example.com]
Date: Oct 7, 2019
Subject: An Open Letter & Open Report / Marriage & The Historic March Across Dixie
To: “LM S” [Lunelle63@gmail.com]
Dear Ms. Lunelle,
It is nothing for me to find myself surrounded by folks on the highways & byways with the Christian Cross of St. Andrew in hand.
On this day, I would have to debunk the efforts of two Yankees to discredit the Southern Cross. They came to where I stood with Auntie Jones, a little old black woman who hobbled up with them with the express purpose to talk about the slave flag I had in hand.
I asked her where she was from. She never did answer. “Well mam,” I asked of her, “how do you equate this flag, a sacred symbol in the South, a flag of the soldier, as being a slave flag? Is it possible that you got it mixed up with the Stars and Stripes? Its because them Rebels fought to keep slavery. I would love for you to try and convince me of that,” I responded.
Under the Constitution of the United States of America, slavery was legal. And Lincoln offered to the men of the South who left Congress to keep it so. All they had to do was to come back and ratify the Corwin Amendment, and Congress would never have the power to write an Amendment to end the economic institution of slavery. “I believe you just made that up,” was her reply. I never heard of no such thing.
“Mam, there is no one of the Southern soil who would deny the existence of the economic institution of slavery. However, those of us with knowledge will not deny the christian charity of the Southern white man to the African people that helped them come together as family to this place in time. A time that the evil that folks like you continue to bring to our homeland with the intent to separate us one from the other.”
Suddenly a young white girl who had been listening the whole time began to speak….. “Excuse me, please. Mr. HK, my mom, dad and I passed by you one day on Highway 25 as you stood on the side of the road next to Dixie Outpost in Travelers Rest, South Carolina, approximately 15 years ago, just as you stand now.”
“My dad,” she continued, “told my mom that while he didn’t believe in inter-racial marriage, he would give my hand to that man standing there, he said pointing to you. And, from that day forth, I have been following your exploits to bring the truth about our homeland to the rest of this nation, and sadly to our very own Southern populous who have been peddled historical lies, and now commit sacrilege against it. My mom and dad were killed in a car accident several years ago, and while dad is not here to hear me ask you to marry me, or to give you my hand, I want you to know that I love you, and I want to marry you. Would you marry me?”
It got very quiet. Auntie Jones looked like she had seen a ghost. The beautiful young lady wrapped her arms around my neck and began to sob profusely. All those people, and nobody said one word. Finally, she dropped her arms, and placed her finger on my lips. Ever so softly, she said, “This is not over! I shall see you again.”
As she and her three girl friends began to walk away, one of the girls stopped, turn towards me and said “She has mad money. You would never have to worry about funding again. God bless you Mr. HK!”
Suddenly the people who had witnessed this began shaking my hand, hugging me and slowly walking away. I was at a loss for words. I could only think, call General McClaren and recount this moment. And, I did!
And not to forget, as the seventeenth anniversary of the Historic March Across Dixie is October 14, 2019, I am disappointed that my little brother Lee and I could not gain the interest or support to make the March Across The Other Side of Dixie.
I believe it would have been the shot in the bow that we Southerners need as we watch our homeland again taking a beating. And especially from those that call themselves Southern. God willing, I will post the Colors on October 14, 2019 at the Zebulon Vance Cenotaph where the historic journey began, and at the Historic Hendersonville County Courthouse, where the first twenty six miles ended. God bless you!